


The Great Elysian Bakeoff

by randomwriter57



Series: Sormik Week 2018 [6]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Baking, Cake, Competition, Gen, it's actually gen wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomwriter57/pseuds/randomwriter57
Summary: Sorey extends a hand to Mikleo. “Good luck.”Mikleo returns the gesture, bumping their wrists together instead of shaking hands. “May the best chef win.”





	The Great Elysian Bakeoff

**Author's Note:**

> because of today's prompts, i tried to make this a comedy fic. i hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> [Sormik Week](http://sormikweek.tumblr.com) day six: Anger/Humour (Thunder)

“Ahhhh!”

Leaning back on his hands, Sorey lets out a satisfied sound, revelling in the feeling of a warm summer’s evening and a full stomach. The grassy fields of Lakehaven Heights sway in the breeze, and an expanse of colour opens above them as the sky slowly turns from blue into a soft pink hue, the beginnings of sunset appearing. The leftover scent of cake batter mingles with the smell of fresh grass. It makes him want another serving.

“That was delicious,” he says.

From the other side of the small campfire they’ve set up, Lailah smiles warmly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s been a while since I last made chiffon cake, so it’s good to see it came out well.”

“It’s really good,” Mikleo chips in. He prods his own slice of cake with his fork as he speaks. “The texture, the flavour - I don’t think I’ve tasted better chiffon cake before.”

“Seriously,” Rose adds, “we should sell these along with Mikleo’s ice cream! We’d make a fortune.”

Lailah gives a soft laugh as Mikleo narrows his eyes at her. They’ve had this conversation before, back when Mikleo first made fruit parfaits for everyone after Rose and Dezel joined their party. Sorey remembers how long that argument had lasted, with Rose trying and failing to convince Mikleo to market his parfaits, and Mikleo insisting that she shouldn’t try to sell the food he put all of his feelings into making.

Well, as long as Sorey has the chance to eat it, he doesn’t really mind. Mikleo’s ice cream and Lailah’s cakes both are a wonder to behold.

Before they can argue about it again, Sorey decides to speak up. “Putting that aside, don’t you think everyone’s really starting to improve with their cooking?”

Mikleo scoffs. “Speak for yourself. When it came to sweet treats, you could only make piles of black stuff when we first left Elysia.”

Sorey frowns. “You say that like you’ve never messed up when cooking! I don’t know how you make a fake snack, but somehow you’ve managed it a few times, now.”

“That only happened a couple of times! Besides, I hardly make mistakes in cooking, especially compared to you.”

“When it comes to cool sweets, sure, but if we let you near a fire-”

“Just because you can cook meat doesn’t mean you have the delicacy needed for baking-”

“Maybe I do, and you just haven’t seen it-”

“Oh? Then I’d like to see you try-”

Sorey stands up. “Fine! It’s a match, then! Let’s see who can make the best cake.”

Mikleo also stands, meeting him eye to eye with his shoulders squared. “You’re on.”

It’s as they stand in silence, challenging each other, that they remember their companions.

Edna is the first to break the silence, tapping her umbrella against the grass. “So are we hosting a cooking competition now?”

“That’s a great idea,” Rose says. “We should market it and sell tickets!”

“No one would be able to see Mikleo,” Dezel says, finally speaking. “It would be pointless.”

“Then we’ll only invite seraphim!”

This strikes Sorey with an idea, and he turns to the others. “Actually, could we do this in Elysia? That way we’ll have our own kitchens to prepare the food in.”

“You want everyone in the village to see your grand failure?” Mikleo teases. “Fine by me. We’ve not been home in a while, anyway.”

Lailah claps her hands together. “It’s settled, then! Let’s gather the ingredients before we head to Elysia. That way everything will be ready for the final showdown.”

Even though it strikes Sorey as a tad ridiculous that their argument has spawned a full-on cooking competition, he can’t say he’s not looking forward to it. After all, there’s nothing like wiping the smug smile off of Mikleo’s face with an undeniable victory.

Thus, their most recent competition begins.

 

* * *

 

Needless to say, when Sorey and the others arrive in Elysia with their arms filled with bags of baking ingredients, they get a few stares of curiosity from the seraphim who come to greet them. Once they explain the situation to them, though, the seraphim become far more invested in this competition than Sorey expected them to be.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them make a cake in their lives,” he overhears Myrna saying to Lailah at one point. “It’ll be interesting to see how well they turn out!”

“My money’s on Mikleo,” Ed says, joining in with the conversation. “He’s always been better at cool sweets.”

When they catch Sorey listening, they only give him knowing smiles. He can’t find it in himself to really be annoyed with them, since they’re not wrong.

Despite the apparent low expectations, he is serious about this competition. Baked sweets are the one niche which neither of them have explored much in their cooking, but he’s sure he can make a delicious cake to impress even the stubborn Mikleo. Besides, there’s more of a chance of Mikleo burning it than of Sorey doing so. He already has a head start.

They take a couple of days in preparation to choose their ingredients and find the perfect recipes for their cakes, to save time on the day of their competition. In that time, Sorey and Mikleo barely see each other, less out of choice and more because the seraphim keep them busy, talking about their preparation and giving them tips and tricks. For the likes of Myrna and Medea, it makes sense, but for seraphim like Ed and Shiron, Sorey is sure they’re only getting involved because they have a bet going. He probably has Rose to thank for that.

Neither of them see each other until the night before their match. Sorey, unable to sleep, heads out into the night, making his way towards the cliff edge where he and Mikleo tended to relax at times like this, before they left Elysia. There’s already a head of white hair there, looking out onto the horizon.

Mikleo hears him coming. “You’re up late,” he says.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sorey says, sitting down beside him. “Same with you?”

“Yeah.”

A calm breeze brushes through their hair. It’s times like this when Sorey feels most nostalgic, sitting in his pyjamas with Mikleo, without needing to worry about the state of the world below. Even if this will only last a short amount of time, he can’t say he’s not grateful for the distraction.

“Are you worried I’m gonna kick your butt tomorrow?” Sorey teases, nudging Mikleo with his elbow.

Mikleo only smirks, meeting Sorey’s nudge with one of his own. “No way. We both know I’ll be taking the victory this time.”

They return to their relaxed positions. Though the temptation to start a tickle fight is all too real, Sorey only remembers how scared Mikleo had been that one time when they’d almost rolled off the edge of the cliff. Probably best not to relive that particular experience.

As Sorey reclines, his hand finds the edge of Mikleo's in the grass, and he leaves it there, their fingers barely brushing.

“Maybe I should start thinking of a forfeit for when you lose,” Sorey says.

“Or maybe you should start worrying about your own forfeit,” Mikleo replies. “I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

Sorey grins despite himself. It’s been too long since he and Mikleo have had this competitive banter, since they’ve been so busy purifying the malevolence and earning the spiritual powers. Even if he’s been lucky enough to have Mikleo at his side on this journey, this is something he’s missed, too.

“Don’t be too harsh, alright?” he says.

Mikleo presses his pinky finger against Sorey’s. “Don’t count on being given any mercy.”

They stay there a little longer, silent but enjoying each other’s company and the calm before the storm that is to come.

 

* * *

 

The next morning marks the day of their match.

They meet at dawn, with the wind blustering around them, wisping hair across their faces and their cloaks into the sky. A few feet apart, they stand at odds, eyes filled with determination. On each side behind them stand groups of seraphim (plus Rose), each having chosen which side to support. This way, everyone can watch whoever they’re supporting, since they’ll be using separate kitchens for the competition.

Sorey extends a hand to Mikleo. “Good luck.”

Mikleo returns the gesture, bumping their wrists together instead of shaking hands. “May the best chef win.”

Lailah, who is hosting the event, steps between them.

“Before we begin, I have an announcement to make,” she says, bringing both of their attentions to her.

“Huh? What is it?” Sorey asks.

Smiling with the air of someone who knows far more than them, she says, “We are implementing a surprise rule in your cooking challenge! As you both know, your task is to bake the perfect cake. However, last night, during dinner, we were talking to some of the residents of Elysia. They told us all about your childhood habits. It was really sweet.”

“Who would have guessed that Meebo had a rebellious streak a few years ago?” Edna’s mischievous smile makes Mikleo flinch in annoyance. “Rebelleo.”

“If this is in relation to when I ran away that one time-” Mikleo starts, but Lailah shushes him.

(Calling it a rebellion is a stretch, anyway. He’d hardly ran very far - only to spend the night in the Mt Mabinogio Ruins, after Gramps separated them into different houses. He’d gone alone, but Sorey found him an hour later, and spent the night with him until Mikleo finally caved, returning to Gramps to apologise for his behaviour. That doesn’t mean he didn’t break the rules a couple of times, but never so much as when they first met Alisha, when everything first began.)

“One of the stories they told us was about how you read a book one day about human customs,” Lailah continues. “It talked about birthdays.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Sorey says, turning to Mikleo. “You seemed down about the fact that I didn’t get to celebrate like other humans, and I felt sad because the seraphim didn’t seem to do it either.”

Mikleo nods. “Yeah. We gave everyone their own birthday, after finding out that they didn’t already have them.”

“And we always shared ours,” Sorey says. “You were so grumpy about that at first, but I thought it made sense.”

Lailah, looking pleased with their reactions, says, “Yes, that is what they told us about. And apparently, a certain seraph’s birthday is coming up.”

For a moment, Sorey and Mikleo freeze, racking their brains for the knowledge of whose birthday was coming up next. It’s difficult now that they’ve been gone for a while, since time passes by so quickly in the process of purification. Once the realisation strikes them, however, their faces move into identical expressions of mixed shock and horror.

“Gramps!”

Gramps’ birthday is always in the middle of summer, during the hottest period of the year. It’s the only time when the clouds beneath Elysia’s mountain seem to grow dark, and Gramps lights up the night sky with fascinating electric storms to clear the muggy heat. In the warmth of summer, they’d get everyone together to prepare a feast, filled with grilled meat and cool sweets and fresh fruit juice. Everyone would laugh and sing and celebrate together, and it was the one time of year where Gramps managed to be less strict towards the boys, ruffling their hair and going along with their antics, if only for a day.

A pang of guilt rushes through Sorey for having forgotten. It’s one thing to forget a friend’s birthday, but to forget the birthday of the one who raised him…

“We thought it would be good for you to try to create the perfect birthday cake for Sir Zenrus,” Lailah says. “Can you do it?”

Sorey exchanges a look with Mikleo, both apprehensive but willing to try. After all, they’d love nothing more than to make Gramps happy. If they can be here to celebrate his birthday, even after having left for the world of humans, they might as well throw in every effort to make it special.

“Of course we can,” Mikleo answers for them both.

Lailah smiles. “Alright. Your challenge is to create the perfect birthday cake for Sir Zenrus. You’ll be judged on flavour, texture, and appearance. And of course, you’ll only have so much time to do it, too.”

“We’ll be holding the birthday feast at sundown,” Kyme says from where he stands in the crowd. “That way most of us can prepare for it, whilst the others watch your competition.”

It’s nerve-wracking, to hear the stakes put so plainly. Sorey gulps.

“Now,” Lailah says, raising a hand. “Let the Great Elysian Bakeoff begin!”

 

* * *

 

 

The heat in the kitchen is stifling, and Sorry hasn’t even lit the fire yet.

He doesn’t know what to attribute it to: the summer sun, the pressure of competition, or the sheer amount of bodies lazing around his house, watching his process.

Okay, to be fair, there are only about ten seraphim in the house, but his house was only ever built for half that, at most. He didn’t even know his bed had the capacity to fit five people sitting in various positions. And yet, any time he glances over his shoulder at them, he’s proven wrong.

At least he doesn’t have to wait for the butter to reach room temperature.

He measures out a rough pound of butter on an old set of scales before transferring it to a bowl, along with a pound of sugar and flour. He cracks the eggs in a separate bowl, beating them before pouring some of the liquid into the batter. Then, he gets to mixing the ingredients.

Though Sorey likes baking well enough, he’s never been fond of the technicalities of it. Being bound to a recipe feels a little restrictive, so he’s always liked experimenting with his dishes. That’s probably why he ends up making black stuff all the time, though. In any case, it’s because of this that he ends up throwing in a teaspoon of lemon juice, once he’s mixed the rest of the ingredients together. He also adds some extra sugar, just to balance it out. It’s not so adventurous that it should ruin the cake for Gramps, but it gives him some freedom as well.

As he mixes the ingredients, Edna pops up at his side, watching him sceptically. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am,” Sorey tells her, keeping his eyes on the bowl even as he smiles in response. “Its been a while since Mikleo and I have had a competition like this. I’m enjoying it!”

“Even when it’s something as tedious as cake-making?”

Sorey shrugs. “I suggested it in the first place. Anyway, you talk as if you’re not interested in how it ends up.”

Edna turns away, tapping her umbrella on the floor. “I just need to make sure I didn’t waste my money, that’s all.”

“Wait, did you bet on me to win?!” Both the idea of Edna gambling over something like this, and the nature of who she put her money on, surprises him more than anything.

“I sure did,” she says, looking over to him again. “Meebo will probably burn everything. Faileo.”

Sorey laughs nervously. He supposes when it comes to elemental stereotypes, Mikleo has always been much better with cool sweets. Then again, there have been a couple of instances in their journey that he’s managed to make a perfect cake. He doesn’t point that out to Edna, though.

“I’ll try my best to win, then,” he says instead.

“You’d better,” Edna says, gripping the handle of her umbrella with a little more force.

He tries not to think about how painful the point of that umbrella will be between his ribs if he messes this up.

 

* * *

 

In his own house, Mikleo moves with the same cool composure with which he faces everything, save perhaps for Edna’s teasing. He sweeps ingredients into the bowl in perfect measures, mixing them with the kind of arm strength which might surprise those watching him if they hadn’t seen the force with which he uses his staff in battle. Everything comes together in a smooth, rich batter, flavoured with a touch of matcha, giving it the green tea flavour he and Gramps have always been so fond of. Maybe it’s a dirty trick, but that's just the nature of the secret challenge they’ve been issued.

His house is smaller than Sorey's due to having been built later, and for the use of someone who rarely slept there, but it comfortably fits the group of people watching him. Then again, some of them are outside, taking in the sunshine, whilst those in his house have been instructed to stay away from the kitchen area whilst he’s baking. That’s probably why it feels spacious right now.

(He just hopes the others aren’t looking through his belongings. He’s picked up an embarrassing number of new books on this journey, some of which have nothing to do with history, and he doesn’t want to be the butt of any further jokes.)

Carefully, he pours the mixed batter into a rectangular cake pan. The slight green hue will die down during the baking process, so he tries not to worry about how unsatisfying it looks in the pan. Once that’s ready, he pops it into the wood-burning stove and relaxes.

That’s the hard part done with. Now, all he has to do is catch up with his dishes and make the glaze and decorations. It can’t be a birthday cake without looking special, after all.

As he’s washing the dishes, Rose comes over, sniffing the air with a hungry expression.

“Something smells good!” she says.

“Lets hope it tastes good too,” Mikleo replies. He uses an arte to evaporate the water dripping from the bowl in his hand, then returns it to its proper place in the cupboard.

“I’m sure it will, everything you make tastes amazing!” Rose’s expression becomes serious, and she lowers her voice. “Besides, I have a 1,000 gald bet riding on you winning this thing, so it’d better taste like the best cake on the planet.”

Mikleo gives her an exasperated expression. “I appreciate your support, but isn’t 1,000 gald a bit of a high bet?”

Rose shrugs. “That’s what Edna bet on Sorey, so I had to match her. The other seraphim here aren’t high rolling gamblers, you see.”

He doesn’t point out how all of their collective money ends up being spent on equipment fusion and food for all of them, no matter how much he wants to. She probably wouldn’t care that her bet means nothing when her money and Edna’s money are already essentially the same thing.

“Well, I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t go broke because of Edna, then.”

As he finishes the dishes and moves onto the glaze, Rose stays with him in the kitchen. For the most part, she keeps trying to convince him to sell his sweets, to which his answer is a consistent “No.” He’s beginning to tell her to leave when he smells something strange and pauses, halfway between a word.

“Do you smell that?” he asks.

Rose sniffs the air, grimacing. “It smells like after Lailah did that crucible of malevolence thingy.”

Turning around, Mikleo blanches.

“Oh no.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sorey pulls his cake out of the stove, using a towel to carry it over to the nearest clear surface. From what he can see, the cake looks beautiful. It’s perfectly browned, and already tested with a skewer to make sure it’s cooked through. He can’t wait to taste it.

Of course, he won’t be able to do that until after the competition. For now, he sets it aside to cool, with Edna watching beside him. She hasn’t moved since their earlier conversation, keeping Sorey amused with dry commentary and snarky remarks about Mikleo. It’s been nice, to have her company. It isn’t often that they get to hang out as just the two of them, after all.

“You left your stuff all over the counter,” Edna points out, not moving from her perch on one of the counters to help him.

“Oh, yeah.” Sorey moves over to start clearing away his used ingredients. Since he’s already made the glaze which will go over the cake, he doesn’t have much else to do. He moves to pick up the large bag of sugar, making sure to close it properly so it doesn’t go all over the place.

When he turns to face Edna, however, her face morphs into one of surprise, then quickly to amusement.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Humans sure are unobservant,” she says, a cryptic response to his question. She twirls her umbrella around idly.

Still, since she said it right after he picked up the sugar, Sorey can’t help the bad feeling which crawls up his spine.

He puts the sugar back down on the counter, surveying the bag. It’s only when he turns it around, however, that he notices the word neatly printed across the material: SALT.

Sorey freezes.

“Oh no.”

 

* * *

 

 

Out of the stove where Mikleo’s cake bakes comes a puff of black smoke, slowly gathering on his ceiling. He lets out a strangled cry, throwing his hands out to cast a water arte on the stove. It’s only once the fire is out that he realises his mistake.

With a pair of well-worn oven gloves, he pulls his charred, soaking cake out of the stove.

Rose watches on with an expression half pitiful, and half stifling laughter.

A couple of seraphim appear at the door, wearing concerned expressions, but they back away with good humoured smiles when they see Mikleo's agitation.

“This is because you distracted me!” Mikleo snaps when Rose's laughter becomes full blown. “What am I supposed to do now?!”

“You could always decorate it and try to make it look nice,” Rose says, her laugh lingering as she eyes the mess that was once Mikleo’s cake. “Probably won’t mask the taste, though.”

Mikleo puts the cake pan down on a nearby surface, glaring at it as though it’s the cake’s fault for burning to death. In his head, he runs through his options.

The cake is burnt through, not to mention sopping wet. Even if he extracted the water using his artes, it might remove some of the moisture from the cake, making it not only burnt but dry as a rock. It might even fall to pieces like ash as soon as he tries to remove it from the pan. There's no way he’s going to serve this to Gramps.

And yet, he only has enough ingredients left for a cake half the size of this one. He wouldn’t want to ask the other seraphim to borrow their ingredients, either – that would feel like even more of a loss.

But he doesn’t have any other options. If he wants to win this competition, he can’t give up now.

What is he supposed to do?

The front door creaks open, and Lailah pops her head through the gap, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene in front of her. “Oh dear, what happened here?”

“The competition heated up too quickly,” Rose jokes, still grinning.

Mikleo turns his gaze to the ground, listening as Lailah lets out an understanding “oh” and moves into the house, closing the door behind her. She heads over to where he stands and looks at the cake.

“It’s not too bad!” she says, wearing the falsest smile he’s ever seen from her. “It could be a new invention!”

“The cake is ruined, Lailah,” Mikleo points out, looking at her with a deadpan expression. “I don’t have enough to make another one unless it’s half the size.”

(In the background, Rose’s face falls, and she pulls out her coin purse, swearing under her breath.)

Lailah bites her lip, looking down at the ground. After a long moment, she looks up again.

“Why don’t you take a little break?” she asks. “Some fresh air might be good for your head. Maybe you’ll think of a new solution when you’re not stuck in such a hot kitchen.”

Though he very much doubts this feels too hot to Lailah - she didn’t even break a sweat during the fire trial, after all, and that was in a volcano - he has to agree. As a water seraph, his heat resistance has always been weak. Maybe the air will help.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll take a break. But only for five minutes.”

“Of course,” Lailah says, holding the door open for him. “Let’s go, then!”

They head out of Mikleo's house. Once the mountain breeze hits his skin, he understands what Lailah meant; he takes a deep breath, and a wave of relief washes over him.

It might not be enough to really make him forget the situation, but it calms him nonetheless.

“It’s surprisingly lively, today,” Lailah says, her gaze falling on the seraphim setting up the decorations around the village. A couple of rocks make for tables which already hold the beginnings of a feast, plates of foods covered by cloths and a space especially for the main attraction – the cake.

Mikleo hopes Sorey's cake has gone better than his own.

A moment later, he scolds himself for thinking such things – he needs to stay determined, or else he’ll never have a chance of winning this competition.

Perhaps Lailah notices his frown, because she does not wait for him to respond before speaking again.

“Have your celebrations always been like this?”

Keeping his gaze on the blue skies, he hums. “At first, they were smaller, I think. We didn’t have as much experience in throwing parties. Over time, of course, this has become normal. I think everyone is putting in more effort because you guys are here, this time.”

He remembers the first birthday celebration they threw for Gramps. Incidentally, it had been the first birthday party they’d ever thrown for anyone, after their own shared birthday which had been organised as a surprise for them. All they’d had was a cake baked by Lawrence and a couple of flowers to give him as gifts. Gramps seemed to enjoy it regardless. He even let them off lightly on having picked the flowers from Cynthia’s garden without permission.

“It’s a lovely thing, to be able to celebrate the lives of those you care about.” Lailah says. “They must all truly enjoy this.”

“I think they do,” Mikleo agrees.

Walking once more, they take a quick stroll along the edge of the cliff, past the gate and back up the village summit. This way, they find themselves on track to Sorey’s house. Mikleo can only imagine the lively atmosphere inside of there.

“Would you like to visit him?” Lailah asks when she follows his gaze. “We can see how he’s doing.”

“Wouldn’t that be cheating? I’d be spying on my competitor,” Mikleo points out.

“Nonsense,” Lailah says. “It’s not spying if you’re just visiting.”

Though Mikleo isn’t sure how credible her excuse is, he goes along with her anyway.

When they open the door, a wave of heat smacks Mikleo in the face. For a moment, he wonders if Sorey forgot about his cake completely.

Only it seems that’s just the natural heat of a kitchen in the summer. Sorey’s cake sits on the counter on a plate, undecorated with a slice already cut off, though it lies unfinished beside the cake, like a broken limb. For a brief second he sees Sorey with his head in his hands, though he looks up upon hearing the door close.

“Mikleo, Lailah!” he says in greeting. He moves to stand in front of where his cake lies, blocking it from view. “What are you guys doing here?”

The wavering tone of his voice and the nervous, maybe even guilty smile on his lips are enough to tell Mikleo that something must have happened.

“Mikleo had some time to spare, so we thought we’d come to see how you’re doing!” Lailah says.

“Oh, right.” Sorey looks both taken aback and worried about her words. Almost like he doesn’t think he’ll have enough time to finish if Mikleo is already done.

Walking over to Sorey, Mikleo peers around him at the cake. Or at least, he tries to - Sorey shifts at the last second, frowning at him.

“Hey, no cheating,” Sorey says.

“I’m not cheating,” Mikleo replies. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

Sorey’s face pales. “Wrong? There’s nothing wrong-”

“Show me the cake.”

At first, Sorey stands his ground. Still, there’s nothing more corrosive than one of Mikleo’s glares, and he shifts, letting Mikleo past to look at the cake.

In all aspects, it looks innocent enough. In fact, Mikleo thinks this might be the best-looking cake he’s seen Sorey make. The outside is perfectly browned, and the cake itself looks light and fluffy. The only indication that something might be wrong, other than Sorey’s behaviour, is the lack of decoration and the broken off piece.

He turns his eyes to the counter, scanning for any evidence of something having gone wrong. All he sees is Edna on one of the other counters, twirling her umbrella and watching on with a smirk. Beside her sits a large bag of-

Oh.

Mikleo turns his gaze back to Sorey. “You used salt instead of sugar, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Sorey says, keeping his gaze away with a pout. A moment later he crumbles, letting his head fall. “Okay, yeah, I did. It’s an easy mistake to make though - the containers look exactly the same!”

“Yeah, except one says ‘salt’ in huge lettering.”

Lailah takes this moment to chip into the discussion. “Perhaps now wouldn’t be the best time to throw salt into a fresh wound, Mikleo.”

“It’d hurt just as much if you mistook it for sugar,” Edna adds from her perch.

Even though part of him feels victorious since he’s not the only one who messed up his cake, the rest of him feels bad for Sorey. They’d both been looking forward to this competition since it was proposed, and now everything has gone up in flames.

“Guys,” Sorey says mournfully. “I think I’ve lost this one. I don’t have enough ingredients for another cake this size - well, except for the sugar.”

“Neither do I,” Mikleo says. When Sorey gives him a questioning glance, he explains. “I accidentally left my cake in the stove too long, and when it caught fire, I doused it with my water artes.”

Sorey grimaces. “Charred and soaking cake? That sucks.”

“Oh, good,” Edna says. “I thought I’d lost my bet, but it looks like Meebo really did come through. Burntleo.”

“Knock it off,” Mikleo complains.

“This sucks,” Sorey says. “Now Gramps won’t have a birthday cake at all.”

For some reason, this hadn’t occurred to Mikleo before. Hearing it now gives him pause, and he feels his heart sink. “You’re right. What are we going to do? We don’t have enough time to get more ingredients; it would take a day just to get to the nearest human settlement, and they might not even have what we need.”

“We could make two smaller cakes, but that just seems…” Sorey trails off. His eyes light up a moment later. “Oh! I have an idea!”

“What is it?”

Sorey grins at Mikleo. “The competition is a bust - we’ve pretty much figured out how good we are at making cakes. You’re good at creativity and making the mixture, but you forget about the timing.”

“And you’re good with timing but you’re careless with the ingredients,” Mikleo adds. “But how will this solve anything?”

“Why don’t we just make a cake together?”

When the words come out of Sorey’s mouth, the answer seems obvious. They’ve both got half the ingredients they need. It would be easy enough to combine their resources and work together. And with Sorey being a Shepherd now, they even have a way of doing it so they won’t get in each other’s way.

Mikleo hates to say it, but it’s the perfect plan.

“Alright,” Mikleo says. “Let’s do it.”

“Does this mean the betting’s off?” Edna says to Lailah, her expression less annoyed than it should be for having just lost 1,000 gald. “Lame.”

“But everything has turned out in such an interesting way,” Lailah says, watching the boys with a smile. “Won’t it be fun to see where this goes?”

Edna shrugs. “I suppose.”

Bumping their wrists together, Sorey and Mikleo grin at each other before speaking in unison.

“Luzrov Rulay!”

 

* * *

 

 

They move around the kitchen like a river, flowing naturally between work stations. They measure out each ingredient in perfect quantities (with Mikleo making sure they definitely use sugar instead of salt, this time) and add them all into a large mixing bowl. Using their combined strength, they mix the ingredients, slowing moulding it into the perfect batter.

From the bedroom, their companions and a few of the Elysian seraphim watch on, amazed by this new method of making cake together.

“I don’t think this is what the armatus was created for,” Dezel grumps. He’s been in this kind of mood since Rose dragged him over to watch, making him stop being a loner and standing out on the cliff edge, as he’d been doing earlier.

“Maybe not, but somehow they’re actually doing it,” Rose says. “Besides, what do you expect from those two? They’re not exactly conventional folks.”

“They've always been like this,” Myrna says from where she sits nearby. “Even if they’re competing or bickering, if it means someone else will be made unhappy, they always resolve their differences and find a solution quickly. Even if their methods can be unconventional.”

Kyme laughs. “That’s right. They once argued over who should do which chores, and when I told them Gramps would be upset if they kept arguing and got nothing done, they started doing every chore together. They only ended up doing half of what needed to be done, but it stopped them from arguing.”

“In the end, their arguments made them unhappy more than anyone.”

Though the discussion is a serious one, and those watching Sorey and Mikleo can see the importance of this information pertaining to their friendship, it’s difficult to take them seriously when they’re wearing a pale blue apron over their armatus form clothing. At least it matches, in terms of colour, anyway.

With the batter mixed, the boys pour it into their baking tin. They share a sense of satisfaction when they put the cake into the stove, hopeful that this time, everything will turn out better than ever.

Despite expectations, they do not release the armatization just yet. They move on to do the dishes, using their shared artes to wash them, then evaporating the water just as easily afterward. By the time they put them away, the scent of a beautifully baked cake fills the kitchen. Putting on Sorey's oven gloves, they pull it out of the oven.

“It looks perfect,” Sorey says. “Let's test it with a skewer, though.”

The skewer comes out clean. Now, they put the cake aside to cool before getting to work on their topping. This time, the cake is a simple vanilla flavour, since they both ran out of their previous flavourings of choice. For the decoration, they whip up a vanilla buttercream icing to decorate it with, along with some summer berries they brought with them from Ladylake, where they bought their supplies.

(Actually, the strawberries came from a little farm on the way to Elysia. They’d all been surprised to see that some farmers had managed to keep their produce alive even in this Age of Chaos, and were wary that the farmer might be reluctant to part with any. On the contrary, he'd been glad to be of service to the Shepherd. Sorey made sure to pay him for the fruits, despite his insisting that he could have them for free.)

Primarily, Mikleo takes charge of the decorating. His stylistic sense has always been more composed than Sorey's, something which they used to argue over, though Sorey will now readily admit. Even if Mikleo makes cakes look beautiful, Sorey is faster at decorating them, or creating any artistic endeavour.

In the end, it’s no surprise that the cake looks amazing. They pick up the plate they transferred it onto before decorating it, then turn to their guests.

“It's done,” they say in unison.

Their small audience come closer, crowding around them to get a better look at the cake.

“It smells amazing,” Myrna says.

“The arrangement is beautiful,” Kyme says.

“You’ve done a marvellous job,” Lailah says. She looks just as proud as the Elysian seraphim, despite only having known the boys for a short time in comparison.

Edna pokes their side with her umbrella, though far more gently than she usually would. “Don’t just stand there, dummies. Take it outside.”

The front door of Sorey’s house opens, seemingly of its own accord, and they turn to see Dezel looking away, his frown softer than usual. They don’t thank him aloud, knowing that he’ll just say it wasn’t him, but they both felt the gentle breeze which passed them on the way to the door. There are no other wind seraphim in the house at the moment, besides. Instead, they shoot him a grateful expression before heading out the front door, their small entourage following them all the way.

It’s a short walk to where the feast has already been laid out, each dish covered to preserve its taste. In the centre of the table stands a cake stand, ready to hold Sorey and Mikleo’s prized creation. Very carefully, they place the cake onto the stand, the centrepiece to what looks to be a promising celebration.

“I’ll go get Gramps,” Kyme says before heading in the direction of the eldest seraph’s home.

In the meantime, Sorey and Mikleo finally release the armatization, now two separate entities once more. Sorey is the first to raise his arm for a wrist bump which Mikleo instinctively returns.

“Nice job, Mikleo,” Sorey says, grinning. “We actually made it.”

“I have to say, you did a good job on the cake itself,” Mikleo says. “The timing was perfect.”

“You’re the one who made it look amazing, though! If we’d still been competing, this would have to be your win.”

Mikleo frowns. “No, it would be yours. I still burned my own cake. Even if it looked good in the end, it wouldn’t taste good. Isn’t the point of food the quality of taste, not appearance?”

Sorey’s eyebrows furrow. “Maybe, but I’ve seen you make cake before, and they’ve turned out well enough. Even if my cakes taste good, they’re boring compared to yours.”

“I’m trying to give you your victory,” Mikleo says, his voice heating up a little in agitation. “Stop being humble!”

“I’m not going to accept a victory like that,” Sorey replies, also getting into the argument. “If we’re still having this argument, we’ll need to have another competition, with fairer conditions.”

“The conditions here were fair enough!”

“Maybe if we had less distractions-”

“We’re not having another competition over this, Sorey-”

“But how are we supposed to pick a winner if-”

A loud crack of thunder interrupts their argument.

Faces suddenly pale, they slowly turn to see Gramps a few feet away, with Kyme not far behind. His expression is unreadable, even to the boys who have learnt to search for the expression behind those thick eyebrows over their time of knowing them. They’re both inclined to think he must be angry, though.

The silence, perhaps, is the worst part. When Gramps doesn’t say anything for a long moment, they both brace themselves for the oncoming lecture they’re bound to receive. For what reason they’d be getting a lecture, neither could truly say, but they’ve probably done quite a few things that would make Gramps annoyed since they left Elysia.

Still, it’s not like this is their first time back since leaving. Gramps already knows that Sorey is the Shepherd now, and Mikleo a Sub Lord. They’ve already had the lecture for that, too.

Oh no. Did Gramps not want cake this year after all?!

“H-hi Gramps,” Sorey says, trying to smile through his teeth. “We’re back.”

When Gramps speak, his voice seems louder than the thunder he’d summoned.

“Arguing when in the presence of guests? Those aren’t the manners I raised you to have, are they?”

Sorey and Mikleo flinch. So it had been about their argument, after all. Quietly, they chorus an apology, hanging their heads.

“And what’s this I hear about misusing the Shepherd’s power for trivial matters?” Gramps says.

At this, Sorey raises his head. “It’s not trivial, Gramps!”

Mikleo also speaks up. “We just wanted to make the perfect cake, and this seemed like the easiest way of doing it.”

“Just because an idea is simple doesn’t mean it’s good,” Gramps points out. After a pause, he wears a small smile. “Besides, there’s no need to go to all that trouble for my sake.”

The boys hesitate only for a moment before rushing over to where he stands. They group together in a three-way hug, one which was far easier to manage when they were all the same height, close to ten years ago. Now Sorey and Mikleo have to almost kneel down to hug Gramps properly.

Still, it’s worth it. Gramps pats their heads in a caring nature, too used to their behaviour to truly be upset.

“Happy birthday, Gramps,” Sorey says into his shoulder, more emotional than he expected to be at this moment.

Mikleo repeats those words into his other shoulder, just as emotional.

Try as he might to be stern, Gramps still smiles as he responds. “Thank you, Sorey, Mikleo. Now, I hear you’ve made the perfect cake?”

They separate, smiles brightening even in the darkening evening, and their celebration begins.

 

* * *

 

 

“So who won the bet?”

Rose grimaces at Sorey’s words. “Did you have to bring that up?”

They’re all in Sorey’s house, late after the celebration has ended. Sorey and Mikleo sit on the floor near the fireplace, graciously allowing the girls to share the bed whilst Dezel lingers in a corner. It’s a cozy setting, one made warmer by their full stomachs and fond memories of the evening.

“Well, they both failed,” Edna says from where she lounges on the bed. “Shouldn’t we get our money back?”

“Actually, the bet’s still on,” a quiet voice says from the corner.

Everyone’s eyes shoot to Dezel, surprised at his contribution and even more surprised by the tiny smile on his face.

“Wait, you made a bet, Dezel?” Lailah asks. “Who did you bet on?”

“I bet that they’d both lose,” Dezel says, holding out a hand. “1,000 gald. Pay up.”

Sorey and Mikleo watch in shock and a little bit of offence as Rose and Edna give him the money they owe, both grumbling under their breaths as they do so.

Well, not every competition ends up as expected, but it’s the having fun that matters most. And Sorey can’t say he didn’t have a lot of fun, today.

He grins over at Mikleo. “Let’s make food like this together again, alright?”

Mikleo smiles with fond amusement. “Just so long as we don’t make a competition out of it again.”

They sit back together, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the day - and their cooking competition - comes to a close.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me [@luzrofrulay](http://twitter.com/luzrofrulay) on twitter / [@luzrof-rulay](http://luzrof-rulay.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more Tales Of ramblings | [@randomactuallywrites-57](http://randomactuallywrites-57.tumblr.com) on tumblr for more writing!


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